


Nine Solar Sweeps

by sunbreaksdown



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, F/F, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbreaksdown/pseuds/sunbreaksdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Vriska's ninth Wriggling Day, and Kanaya's left with the thankless task of getting her to shut up for more than five consecutive minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Solar Sweeps

     Vriska's ninth Wriggling Day is as successful as the eight proceeding it.

     She spends the day slumped against the table, poking at the 8 key of her husktop, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there's no power running through it. When prompted, she gives a heart-wrenching account about how absolutely nothing will compare to being eight, not for another seventy-nine solar sweeps, and really does have the lamenting part of the celebration down to an art. Vriska berates herself, bemoaning the fact that she hasn't plundered nearly enough treasure to live up to Mindfang's legend, and then twenty minutes later is whining about stupid she is for filling cavern after cavern with unless junk that only takes up valuable room. Splitting up the sweeps into quarters, she carefully dissects them all, analysing when she was too vicious and when she was too nice, practically beating her fists at the desk over not being able to reach a fearsome albeit benevolent middle-ground.

     In spite of that all, Vriska never does get around to acknowledging the things she's _actually_ done wrong. Kanaya didn't expect her to, just as she didn't expect her to last sweep, and sits quietly in the corner of the respiteblock, reading from the latest instalment in the _To Drink From a Rainbow Well_ series. It's a particularly interesting volume, in that it explores interclass relationships in a manner romantically befitting of a rainbow drinker novel, but mostly because it distracts her from Vriska's little show of dramatics. She'd offer her sympathy, but the time for sympathy past three hours ago, and no amount of explaining that it's only a day like any other will get Vriska to shut up.

     _As the rainbow drinker pulled her willing prey into her arms,_ it reads, _arms made strong and steady by the uncompromising flow of amethyst surging inside her veins, the young troll turned her head to the side, lest her captor see her skin flush a paltry shade of scarlet. Her heart beat faster still as the rainbow drinker drew her ever closer, making her skin tingle with heat enough to make even the young troll believe that she too was a daywalker, standing out in the relentless Alternian sun. Rust pounded through her veins, and she knew that soon, it would be all over. The rainbow drinker –_ her _rainbow drinker – would soon pierce her dull grey skin, tasting her common birth for herself, and_ , oh, Vriska is still talking.

     With a sigh, Kanaya reluctantly folds down the corner of the page she's on and places the closed book on a relatively clear looking part of the tabletop. Purple bloods associating with the lowest class, Kanaya thinks with a smile as she gets to her feet. She has every faith that the author will manage to turn it all around, to make the heroine and the rainbow drinker overcome the insurmountable odds stacked against them, but she can't fathom how. Perhaps there'll be a daring sword fight in a castle. She hopes there'll be a daring sword fight in a castle. Kanaya's always been fond of them, and speculating is so very interesting. Much more interesting than Vriska's self-indulgent little tantrum that's been raging for the better part of half a day now.

     “There, there,” Kanaya says, crouching down next to her as she pats her shoulder, “There is no need for this line of behaviour to continue, Vriska. I brought you a present, and I think you will like it.”

     Vriska, arms folded against the tabletop and face planted down against them by this point, very slowly turns her head, glaring at Kanaya through the lens that hasn't been blacked out. It's the same look that serves as the last thing that countless young troll must ever see while Vriska is out on one of her pirate-themed raids, Kanaya supposes, but she's never been scared of Vriska enough to back away.

     “You did whaaaaaaaat? God, Kanaya! It's like you're trying to remind me what this day is! You're shoving this in my faaaaaaaace like Gamzee does with his sopor slime pies!”

     Not over-dramatic in the least. It's wonderful to see that Vriska isn't actively attempting to make things seem worse for herself. Kanaya only intends to humour her for so long, and then she'll find a quiet block in her hive in which to continue her windswept adventure through the pages of the rust-meets-royalty romance. The fact that the rainbow drinker's going to turn out to have once been the princess of the castle in which she now resides will come as a surprise to approximately no one, and there are only so many twists these books can have before Kanaya works out the exact formula keeping the plot together.

     “Do you not want to even view the gift, Vriska? Perhaps observing it will provide the auxiliary sense required in order to assuage your injurious temperament and assist you in understanding the natural dispositions of my affections for you,” Kanaya says calmly, running her fingers over the top of Vriska's head. It really is quite an unsettling texture, the mess of tangles Vriska calls her hair, and Kanaya believes she'd like nothing more for her own Wriggling Day than to be given the opportunity to brush it out.

     At the mention of _affections_ , Vriska looks as if she's considering sitting up, but the urge to do so doesn't possess her for long. Instead, she makes the relatively small effort of lifting her hands, and presses her first two fingers and the tips of her thumbs together, forming a diamond. Through the centre of the shape as crude as it is cruel, Kanaya sees Vriska grin.

     She frown in response. She frowns, and she frowns very hard indeed, as if she's in the process of copyrighting the concept of scowling. Unblinking, she meets Vriska's gaze, quite convinced that she has the advantage here; after all, surely two eyes glaring are more intimidating than one. The diamond remains intact for an entirety of eight seconds, before Vriska relents, rolls her eye, and then curls her two fingers inwards, making a heart.

     “Better,” Kanaya says firmly, still not dropping her gaze.

     “God, Fussyfangs, don't be so huuuuuuuuffy all the time!” Vriska says, covering Kanaya's face with her palm, until she's forced to at least blink. “I guess I'm alright with it if you're going to give me a gift. As long as it's not some dumb piece of clothing aaaaaaaagain, like the past three cycles!”

     “It's an article of clothing,” Kanaya immediately says, not in the least put off by how _dumb_ the gift supposedly is. “Although I have every faith that you will enjoy the product.”

     Again with the rolling eye. “Noooooooo, you have every faith that _you'll_ like it, or you'll like me _in_ it, just like every sweep! Remember those shoes you presented me with last year? What the hell was with those!?”

     Kanaya looks pointedly towards the floor.

     “Vriska. You're wearing the aforementioned shoes at this very moment.”

     “So?” she asks with a shrug, feet shuffling all the way under the desk. “My old ones had holes in, haha, and these just so happened to be laying around, completely useless!”

     “Those ones are also tormented by a series of holes. The soles are a medley of gaping wounds, slowly but surely bleeding into one another like the spread of a disease consuming the still-healthy cells at an alarming rate. I am very alarmed, Vriska.”

     “I've had them for a whoooooooole sweep. What do you want from me?”

     A good question indeed. _To shut up for a few moments and enjoy your Wriggling Day_ , would most likely be the answer at the top of Kanaya's list, but she says nothing more, lest the conversation continue to spiral into realms unknown. She gets to her feet, reaches down for the sizeable box she's had hidden behind the chair, and carefully picks it up, inspecting the edges for any dents or creases. Hiding the gift had proven to be an entirely pointless endeavour, because Vriska has spent the entirety of the day thus far wrapped up in her own concerns, blind to the rest of the world around her.

     Kanaya hesitates. She can act blasé to Vriska's insistence that all gifts are dumb, bluh bluh, but the truth is that Kanaya cares what she thinks. Of course she does. The dynamics between herself and Vriska have certainly changed over the last few perigees, for the better, in some ways, but at times, it only serves to set Kanaya's nerves on edge. Vriska is as unpredictable as ever in most regards, and still the painfully dangerous individual she's always been, and Kanaya can only chastise herself for actually finding these qualities exhilarating. It's an odd sort of matespritship, one born of sweeps of Kanaya's silence finally coming to an end in a particularly heated argument, combined with Vriska's rather lacklustre reply of _oh man, I had no idea! Well, I think this conversation is rife with enough tension to excuse any sloppy makeouts, if that's what you waaaaaaaant!_

     Sure, it had taken a lot of work on Vriska's behalf, but they'd come to some sort of understanding. Vriska's feelings were a tad more genuine that she let on, and there was always more to it than kissing for the hell of it.

     Regardless of how they got to wherever they are, the point still stands: Kanaya wants Vriska to enjoy the gift. She's poured hours upon hours of work into it, and her garden's been neglected as a result.

     Unable to hold out for any longer, Kanaya averts her gaze and holds out the box to Vriska.

     She immediately snatches it from her, making short work of the packaging. She simply tears through the box, eager to get to the spoils inside, with absolutely no concern to how carefully Kanaya wrapped it all up in the first place. She doesn't even read the tag attached to the box, and it lands on the floor, lost in a flurry of torn up paper. Kanaya still doesn't look directly at her. Vriska begins rummaging around the remnants of the box, and it's completely ridiculous, but Kanaya feels her heart beat just the slightest amount too fast. It's hardly deafening, but she still feels horribly exposed.

     When there is only silence on Vriska's part, Kanaya very slowly dares to look her way again. There she is, sat fully upright, finally, holding a pirate hat between her hands. It's a large thing, grander than Mindfang's, and if Kanaya does say so herself, far more sophisticated, too. She watches as Vriska turns it in her hands, expression somewhat puzzled, like she can't comprehend what possibly use she could find for an expertly made pirate hat, thumbs brushing across the brim to take in the feel of the material. It's a nice compromise, Kanaya reasons; she gets to make Vriska something to wear, and Vriska will actually make the effort to use it.

     Finally taking her eyes off the hat, Vriska glances over to Kanaya, and then signals for her to come back over. Kanaya does just that, crouching back by her side, and without a word, Vriska leans forward, rubbing her dry lips to the corner of her mouth. In an instant, Kanaya is all smiles, the previous irritation of Vriska's stubborn bad mood all but forgotten. She eases the hat from between Vriska's fingers, carefully slides her horns through the holes that she went to the painstaking effort of ensuring were the exact right distance apart, and pushes the hat down into place.

     It's a rather fetching look, Kanaya has to admit.

     “Do you like it?”

     Kanaya straightens when Vriska tugs on her sides, moving with practised eased into her lap, arms hanging loosely over shoulders. Vriska's arms loop around her waist, hold on tight, possessively, and she seems to be far more interested in pressing her lips hard against Kanaya's than she does in answering her. Kanaya doesn't mind; she can read between the lines. She kisses back, lips parting ever so slightly against Vriska's, and all too slowly for her liking, apparently. Vriska's never been the most patient creature, and Kanaya feels her top row of teeth graze against her lower-lip, fangs and all, as if serving as a warning. Briefly, Kanaya considers doing more than grunting against her mouth to protest the pace, but the decides that this is Vriska's day, and complying is the least she can do for her.

     Lips parted, Vriska tugs at her lower lip one last time, before sliding her tongue against Kanaya's, letting out an appreciative hum. Kanaya hooks a finger beneath Vriska's jaw, tilting her head back, so that she can kiss her deeper, harder, and though she does her best to keep it slow, suddenly, she doesn't have as much faith in her own restraint as she did a few moments ago. Vriska's hands wander all over her back, down to her hips and lower, and it's utterly infuriating, because all Kanaya wants to do is kiss her, and yet Vriska makes her feel as if her think pan has turned to slime.

     She's almost grateful when Vriska breaks off the kiss, but barely manages to stop herself from leaning back in in search of Vriska's lips.

     “Do you remember the first time we did thiiiiiiiis?” Vriska asks, voice unsettlingly cheerful. At least Kanaya knows well enough that Vriska's moods can easily be assuaged by material goods.

     Kanaya's smart enough to realise that she isn't simply talking about kissing when she says _this_ , and she presses her lips to Vriska's throat while she mulls the answer over. Yes, she does, of course she does, but she isn't certain of whether she should be trying to placate Vriska, or if winding her up all the more really is the way to go. Then again, Vriska's moods come and go as they please, wholly unpredictable; Kanaya opts for honesty.

     “Yes, of course, there is no need to question the unblemished nature of my memory,” Kanaya says slowly, lips moving to the line of her jaw, and then covering Vriska's mouth, briefly, forehead coming to rest against hers. “You pierced my lower lip three consecutive times, spent the entirety of the copulas act in a state of fabricated perplexity, stating that you could not, verbatim, 'believe you didn't have to manipulate' me into participation, which I still hold fast by the notion that it speaks unfathomable depths about your self-esteem. You also head-butted me once we were done.”

     Vriska furrows her brow at the all too vivid recollection, mouth slanted at an awkward angle, as if she can't begin to imagine what possessed her to ask in the first place. Kanaya raises her eyebrows, as if goading Vriska on in her response, and although she'd never tell her as much, in a way, she was glad of her behaviour. It was somewhat endearing to learn that Vriska Serket could, in fact, be nervous when it came to certain matters, even if she was left with more than a few cuts and scrapes.

     “You've got to admit that I was preeeeeeeetty great, though!” Vriska says, bouncing back to her upbeat state, nose pressing against Kanaya's.

     “Oh my, of course,” Kanaya agrees, and then decides to cut off the flow of conversation entirely by wresting another kiss from Vriska. Vriska, more than happy to be shut up, moves back into the kiss with the sort of refined haste she graces most intimate moments with, hands refusing to stay still for so much as a second.

     Rewarding Vriska's impatience, Kanaya gradually begins to rock her hips as she kisses her, letting out an array of soft, satisfied noises into the back of Vriska's throat when the movement becomes a full-out grind, with a little persuasion from Vriska's annoyingly well-placed hands. Kanaya's hands move to Vriska's shoulders and she grasps the fabric of her shirt tightly, no longer minding quite as much when Vriska's teeth scrape against her lips. When she feels the backs of Vriska's knuckles brush against her stomach, Kanaya gasps, eyes fluttering downwards, only to find herself sorely disappointed.

     Vriska's fingers aren't making a straight line for places that would usually leave Kanaya blushing bright green. Instead they bypass the removal of Kanaya's skirt entirely, busying themselves with the unbuttoning of her own pants. Kanaya frowns, stops kissing her completely, and Vriska only rolls her eye, hips lifting from the chair so that she can properly unzip her pants. With a raised eyebrow, Kanaya lets it be known that she isn't at all impressed, and Vriska grins, trying to push Kanaya back.

     “Stop looking at me like that, Fussyfangs! It's my Wriggling Day, after all,” Vriska says, smirk intolerable. Kanaya half wishes that she'd go back to sulking, but the other half of her is currently very much occupied with how fast her heart is suddenly beating. It doesn't take her much to convince herself that Vriska's logic really can't be argued against, and then she's moving from her lap of her own accord as Vriska tries to shuffle her pants off.

     Kneeling down, Kanaya decides to be accommodating and tugs both Vriska's pants and underwear down in a smooth motion, letting them rest around her ankles. Goodness knows that Vriska doesn't need to go kicking off any clothing to parts unknown and make an even greater mess of her room. Feeling somewhat flustered, but mostly eager to go through with Vriska's plan, Kanaya presses her lips to the side of her knee, and glances up at her. Vriska's smiling, hips sliding forward on the chair in anticipation, and she brings her hands down, placing them atop her head, fingers immediately tangling in her short hair.

     Kanaya lets out a heavy breath against her skin, eyes closing when she feels Vriska's fingertips begin to rub against the base of her horns. Up Kanaya's mouth goes, lips grazing against the inside of her thigh, steadily moving higher and higher as Vriska's fingers work harder against her. Kanaya lets out a muffled moan, caught up in the moment, in Vriska touching her like that as she lets out stilted gasps of her own, and that seems to be the last straw for Vriska; she wraps her fists around her horns, tugs harshly on them, and Kanaya's mouth comes pressing down between her legs.

     Both of them let out an appreciative little groan at the same time, and then Vriska's hips are bucking without restraint, hands holding Kanaya's head firmly in place as she works as best she can, tongue pressing and stroking against Vriska, trying to move fast enough to meet her ever increasing demands. It's really not difficult to get into the rhythm with Vriska tugging on her horns like that. Kanaya, as ever, finds herself all too eager to oblige, and tilts her head to the side when Vriska allows it, tongue sliding inside of her. She works her tongue in and out of her, and feels the whole of Vriska tense as she tries to hook her legs around her back, only to find that her ankles are bound together by her long forgotten pants.

     Kanaya feels herself slip into an almost trance-like state, so focused on the task at hand, well aware that Vriska's tugging of her horns and pulling of her hair only becomes more uncertain and uncharted as things transpire. She hears her groan out her name and then swear down at her a few times for good measures, and at one point, Kanaya's genuinely worried that the chair's going to fall to pieces if Vriska keeps alternating between lifting her hips and throwing her weight down on it like that. Deciding to hurry things along for Vriska's sake as much as the chair's, Kanaya spreads her legs a little further, slipping two fingers inside of her as she goes back to licking in rough, broad strokes.

     Vriska ends up as a panting, exhausted wreck, hands still snaked around her horns, and for a brief moment, Kanaya worries she's going to forget that her super-strong robot arm is indeed super-strong and snap one of them right off. She tilts her head this way and that, freeing herself from Vriska's grasp, and Vriska sits with her head tilted back, eyes closed, utterly out of touch with the entirety of her surroundings. Free of her hold, Kanaya slowly stands up, knowing well enough just how shaky her legs are going to be, and without any prompting, Vriska cracks an eye open.

     As soon as she spots Kanaya she's got her arms wrapped around her waist, and Kanaya laughs lightly, falling into her lap when she's pulled closer. Vriska's mouth explores the side of her neck as her fingers find their way to her inner thigh, and Kanaya takes in a shallow breath, finding not so much as a drop of resistance in the whole of her body.

     “Not baaaaaaaad, Maryam,” Vriska says, and the thought of it merely being _not bad_ is counteracted in its entirety by how breathless she sounds. “Did you try eeeeeeeextra hard because it's my Wriggling Day?”

     Kanaya's eyes close, and for a moment, she deigns not answer. She takes in the feel of Vriska's fingers brushing beneath her shirt, and the way her fangs ever so slightly graze across her pulse point, and lets out a very low, contented sigh.

     “Well,” she says slowly, feeling the muscles in her stomach pull taut when Vriska's fingers press against her underwear, “It is quite impossible to refuse to do your bidding when you have donned such a dashing hat.”


End file.
